A Truth in Lie's Clothing
by Fuujin Kishukaze
Summary: Claire does some serious thinking at the end of 'Enemy of my Enemy', and makes a choice that will effect Darien for the rest of his life without telling him.


Author's Note: I unfortunately don't own any of the I-Man character, scifi does for another week or so... but I do own the observation I made that lead me to write this fic. So what does that mean? Dun sue me, you won't get anything. You can, however, read, review, and be merry - I'd appreciate all of those things. Oh, and one more thing... this fic has spoilers for Enemy of my Enemy Pt. 1, along with dialogue from it... so if you haven't seen this episode, don't blame me when you're surprised.  
  
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I jump as I hear the door to the keep open, knowing all too well who's on the other side of the door. And I can't bring myself to face him, not knowing what news I have to give him. What lies I have to tell him.  
  
"Please... please just tell me that you got the goods before he escaped...?"  
  
My heart falls a few more levels in its path to heartbreak as I hear those words; I can almost imagine his face. His large, puppy dog eyes regarding my back with a hint of hope in them as he prays on the memory of his lost brother that I can fix him. I fight back the urge to start crying, and turn around slowly, not able to meet his eyes until I've been facing him for a few seconds. "I'm sorry."  
  
The hope I found fades suddenly and now he looks like he's trying not to cry as well. He slumps his shoulders and moves into the chair I usually sit in when working at my computer. Then, he rests his head on his hand and heaves a heavy sigh. God, how can I do this to him? I can't bear to see him like this... I'll just tell him I got it, give him the shot, and hope like hell he sticks around. After all, it'd be better than seeing him like this.  
  
"Darien..."  
  
"No," he cuts me off, "It's ok... it's, you know. It's not your fault."  
  
I loose my resolve to tell him the truth again, and instead just answer dumbly, "Is there anything I can do?"  
  
He nods slowly, peeling his gaze away from the floor to look up at his keeper. "I guess I, um..." He lapses into silence and I curse myself. Why is the truth so hard to get out? Why can't I just put a stop to all this pain and tell him I know the cure? "I guess I need a shot."  
  
"Don't get up," I tell him, and he nods thinking that it's because I don't want to cause him additional suffering. And true that is part of the reason, but the other part of it is the fact that I have both syringes laying on the counter - one with the suicide gene contained within, and the other full of counteragent.   
  
For a moment, I stare at them both and think deeply. The Official had ordered me not to tell him what Arnaud had found, but he had also told me that if I thought my kept wouldn't run away after I freed him then I could give him the suicide gene. I frown, as it seems I get to play God. Either I give him a simple shot of counteragent, and count down the days until he goes permanently insane when the blue drug stops working. Or, I give him the suicide gene without telling him and hopes he decides to stick around once he realizes he's cured. One of my shaking hands reaches for the counteragent, but as it falls on the syringe I quickly change my mind and reach for the suicide gene. At least he has a chance this way.  
  
I return to his side, and wrap a line of yellow tubing around his upper arm so the veins come to the surface. Without a word, I inject the suicide gene and luckily he doesn't even notice what I'm putting into him isn't counteragent. Then gently, I swab the area with a clean cotton ball and wait for his reaction. He groans, running a hand over his face as though he expects to wake up from a terrible nightmare by doing so. Maybe I should tell him what I've done? Just to ease his pain a little.  
  
"Darien...?"  
  
But before I get any further, the door to the keep slides open revealing his bald-headed partner. "Hey guys," Bobby announces with a wave and a vague smile, obviously trying to lighten the mood.  
  
"Hey man, how you doing?"  
  
"Hey Bobby."  
  
My kept's companion lingers at the door, as though coming in would make the situation even worse. "Fawkes?"  
  
He looks up from his hand, finally. "Hmm?"  
  
Bobby shrugs. "Just seeing if you were interested in going in on the first round of interrogating the rat pack."  
  
"Guess I could always use some cheering up," he answers, the hopelessness dripping from his tone bringing tears to my eyes. He shoots a glance at me, tapping me on the knee as if to tell me it's going to be alright somehow even though I hadn't gotten his cure from Arnaud and then he stands up and exits with Bobby. And the second the doors close, the tears are running down my face. He has so much faith in my abilities... and yet the only person who could cure him was his mortal enemy. And even worse, he doesn't even know now that he's fixed... but when he does, the ending to this story is up to him.  
  
I realize now that if I guessed right when I decided to give him the suicide gene, then this story will have a happy ending. Darien and Bobby will keep on protecting the world from the evil in the hearts of men, and I might be out of a job. Or maybe the Official will keep me around as a company doctor or something. But either way, I've done my job to ensure the continued well being of someone who means a lot to me. But if I guessed wrong, then I've just served as judge, jury, and executioner for one of my best friends.   
  
In my blurred vision, I watch as I mindlessly smash the empty syringe that had once housed the suicide gene. Bloody hell, Darien... don't betray my trust now.  
  
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Author's Note II: So what was the observation that lead me to write this fic? That the stuff that Claire injected into Fawkes wasn't blue like counteragent usually is. Keep in mind that I doubt this is actually the truth of what happened, but it's nice to dream. 


End file.
